


Walk of Shame

by Eve_Levine



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Canon-Typical Misogyny, Cheating, Episode Tag S3x7, Even Narcissistic Pornstars, Everyone has a point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eve_Levine/pseuds/Eve_Levine
Summary: Ima gets dressed quickly, but she doesn't scurry. Nobody makes her scurry anymore, not even cranky bikers with killer hangovers. She's not a timid virgin, she doesn't believe in the walk of shame, and she can take his hard silence.Everybody has a story, and everyone is the hero of their own story. This is Ima's.
Relationships: Ima (S.o.A) & Jax Teller, Tara Knowles/Jax Teller
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Walk of Shame

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on a Jax/Tara S3 story, when this scene and Ima's backstory, fell into my head, and then this version of Ima bitched at me until I started writing it down. I know she's not a sympathetic character, but she and her backstory grew very complicated. I have a plan to finish a multi-chapter story exploring her backstory in the works. This was written years ago and originally posted at ff.net.
> 
> Like it or loathe it, let me know what you think.

Tara storms out of the room, and Ima throws Jax a triumphant smile as she goes to climb back into bed. He doesn’t smile back.

“Get out,” Jax orders quietly, as he takes a drag of his cigarette. 

There is something uncomfortably close to disappointment dropping into Ima’s belly as she meets his stony gaze. She doesn’t comply at first. She stands there in his t-shirt, giving him a searching look, trying to see if he really wants her gone. Jax raises his eyebrows at her and jerks his chin towards the door, as if telling her to get a move on. She sighs and grabs her clothes.

Ima gets dressed quickly, but she doesn’t scurry. Nobody makes her scurry anymore, not even cranky bikers with killer hangovers. She’s not a timid virgin, she doesn’t believe in the walk of shame, and she can take his hard silence.

Last night, she thought she understood Jax. Thought she saw right through him, the way she could see through so many men. She knew some of their hookup was about breaking up with his girl, and knew some of it was about wanting to fuck the hottest chick at Cara Cara. She thought she recognized a piece of herself in him, and thought they were working two angles together. Hot uncomplicated sex with each other and also throwing a big _Fuck You_ at the girlfriend. 

He was intense, and she had fun, and Ima let herself like Jax a little more.

Ima had a temporary moment of insanity in bed with Jax, right after he came, when he curled down into her body and panted against his neck. She wanted Jax to kiss her collarbone. Ima arched against him, nudging him in that direction, wanting some of the sweetness boyfriends show their girlfriends. She was tired of looking up at the heavy lidded smirks of her co-stars, while she was wiping their cum off of her face.

It only lasted a moment, and when Jax didn’t take the hint, when he wouldn’t put his lips on her, she had to save face. Ima arched further, indicating she wanted him to get off of her. He rolled to the side and stared at the ceiling, rubbing the tattoo on his chest. He was probably thinking about his missing kid, and Ima didn’t have a fucking clue what to say to him. That kind of comfort wasn’t in her wheelhouse. 

It was time for her to leave. Ima rolled away from Jax and found her panties on the floor. She almost didn’t want to put them on, because on closer inspection, the floor was seriously nasty. Ima wrinkled her nose as she slipped her panties up over her hips, wondering how long it had been since somebody bothered to vacuum the carpet. She was looking for her bra when he finally spoke.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jax said, and his voice was thick with some emotion Ima couldn’t read.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t do sleepovers,” she answered, and it earned her a snort before he dug around in the nightstand drawer and produced a joint.

“Fine, but smoke this with me first.” He grinned at her and lit the joint, taking a deep hit and blowing the smoke at her. “C’mon darlin’, you know you want it.”

Ima would never admit it out loud, but it was the grin and the darlin’ that got her back into his bed, not the offered weed. She laid back down and they passed the joint back and forth. He didn’t try to hold her, which was good, because Ima’s not sure if that’s exactly what she wanted, or if it would have sent her running out of the door. They didn’t have much to say, but it wasn’t weird. It was almost nice. 

Jax got up at one point to lock the door, and Ima fell victim to a stream of pot-laced giggles, because wasn’t it a little late for that? The sexy bit was over. She asked him why he waited until after they were done fucking to lock the door, and Jax just shrugged and grinned at her again. He lit another joint and passed it to her as he climbed under the covers. Then when she was high and sleepy, and had decided she might not hate it if he wanted to cuddle, he turned the light off and told her to get some sleep.

Ima realizes now that he wasn’t locking the door. He was unlocking it. Leaving it open so his girlfriend could find them. Which is okay with her. They were working two angles together after all, and the second one was about hurting the girlfriend. Oh, and the look on Tara’s face was worth the price of admission. Ima really owed Tara for the damage inflicted on her car, because what kind of psycho pulls a gun over a squabble about dick?

She glances at Jax. His eyes are narrowed and they’re following Ima’s every movement with… she can’t quite name the look he’s giving her, but she knows she doesn’t like it. She’s not sure what caused the shift in his demeanor, or why he’s suddenly being a douche. The sex was good, but she’s not looking to hold his hand. She’s not clinging to him. They both got what they wanted. They can be friendly. This doesn’t have to get tense.

Then she puts it together. Jax wasn’t working two angles last night, he was just working one. None of it was about her. It was all about the girlfriend. Ima can feel herself getting pissed. She doesn’t let men make her feel disposable… ever. She disposes of them.

“Sooo, this whole thing. Fucking me, the door, spending the night, all of it was so she could catch you with me. Wasn’t it?” Ima asks him as she pulls on her jacket, and she’s really proud of herself when her voice comes out casual and light, as if she’s amused by it all. Jax doesn’t answer. He licks his lips and takes another drag of his cigarette. His eyes never leave hers, seemingly challenging her to make a scene. Ima looks away first.

Ima doesn’t like Tara. She kinda enjoys how hurt Tara must be right now as she tears away in that ridiculous old boat of hers -because really, fuck that bitch. But there’s a sense Ima’s getting that maybe Jax really is too much like herself. Those little hopeful whispers she’s been trying to stifle of maybe making a real effort with a guy, and maybe Jax being that guy, need to be thrown out the window, because Ima’s not naive. She knows if he can do this to somebody they all say he’s loved since he was a kid, he would tear Ima in two and spit on the pieces, if she ever let herself trust him.

“God, Jax. That’s fucked up,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. She pastes on a smile so brittle that it hurts her face, because how this bullshit makes her feel, is none of his fucking business.

Jax stubs out his cigarette and gets out of bed. “I told you to leave,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t look back, or even bother closing the door, as he starts the shower and climbs into it.

It hits her then, exactly what that sharp look in his eyes means. It’s a seething contempt, and she’s seen it there before. At the wrap party, at the jail, last night, and a minute ago. It’s always been there under the surface, behind every smile he’s ever thrown at her. She’s just been too busy trying to land him, trying to knock other chicks out of the way and grab the biggest trophy a town like Charming can offer, to notice Jax never liked her.

Ima puts on her heels. Fuck, her feet hurt, but she doesn’t limp as she goes through the door. She tosses her hair and rolls her hips into a saunter. There is a bunch of _way_ too casual bikers sitting quietly around the bar. Ima meets all of their eyes, even Opie’s, as he glares at her and stands there looming like the world’s tallest cock block. 

She smiles at Opie as she heads for the exit. Her head is up, and she makes really fucking sure there is no shame in her walk.


End file.
